


Seven Days, Seven Sins

by misura



Series: Seven Days in a Week [1]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Multi, Pre-Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-08
Updated: 2010-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 05:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal doesn't feel guilty about the doughnuts, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Days, Seven Sins

**Author's Note:**

> written for myystic during the Secret Valentine's Exchange over at [whitecollarfic](http://whitecollarfic.livejournal.com/)

"It's funny," Peter says, in a tone that implies the fact he's not laughing should be considered a clue as to how amused he really is, "but I could have sworn there were six doughnuts in this bag when I left."

[day one: Gluttony and Temperance]

"That was almost three hours ago." Neal's tone implies it's been three hours he's spent being bored, and that if feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt is too much to ask of Peter, a quick shift in the topic of the conversation to more important things than doughnuts is surely no more than reasonable.

"It was a long meeting." Peter doesn't say 'boring'. His work isn't 'boring', and meetings are part of his job. The fact that he might enjoy them more if people would get to the point more quickly, or that sometimes, the point doesn't seem particularly worth getting to is neither here nor there.

"There's coffee if you want it." Neal's gaze flickers to the coffee maker.

"What I wanted," Peter says, "was a doughnut."

"Doughnuts aren't good for you." Neal's smile is that of a man who takes pride in having successfully protected a friend against himself. "You know that."

"It's not like I was going to eat _all_ of them."

Peter's had breakfast. Elizabeth wouldn't let him get out of the door without one. He's picked up the doughnuts in a bakery, on the way to work, a little pick-me-up for after the meeting.

The paper bag is empty now. It still smells of doughnuts. Peter throws it in a trashcan.

"You could have saved _one_ , at least."

"Is that a new case?" Neal reaches for the folder in Peter's hands.

Peter considers yanking it away, then decides it would be too childish. Almost as childish as eating a person's doughnuts just because they've gotten themselves stuck in a meeting for three hours and thus aren't available to keep you entertained.

"Yes, it is." He lets Neal have the folder as they walk towards his office. "You really ate six doughnuts?"

"Don't be silly, Peter - I never even touched any of your doughnuts." Neal hums as he looks at the pictures in the file. "Ooh, that one's nice."

"Apparently, you're not the only one who thinks so. And what do you mean: don't be silly? Who _else_ would be stealing my doughnuts?"

"I swear I didn't touch them," Neal says, too cheerfully, smiling as he follows Peter into his office.

("How were we supposed to know they were Peter's?" Jones asks Cruz.)

("Common sense?" Her fingers are as sticky as his, of course.)

*

The thing about Neal that Peter's never really understood (or, well, _one_ of the things about Neal that Peter's never really understood) is his need to _own_ things. Peter understands beauty. He understands that some things are considered to be art, even if he doesn't find them particularly beautiful himself.

What he doesn't understand is why some people can't just be happy with getting a nice poster.

"Aren't you done drooling yet?"

[day two: Lust and Chastity]

"I wasn't drooling." Neal looks slightly dazed. Peter decides he doesn't really want to think about whether it's the paintings themselves or the idea of stealing them that's put that expression on Neal's face. "You wanted me to evaluate their security system."

"And?" Peter prods.

"Don't you think that landscape over there would look nice in your living room? I'm pretty sure Elizabeth would love it."

"So you think their security system's not that good."

Neal looks hurt. "Most people wouldn't be able to just walk in here and take one of these beauties home with them."

The landscape is nice enough, Peter supposes. It's - well, it's got trees. Peter likes trees. "Most people aren't you."

Neal beams, the previous insult apparently forgotten. "Thank you."

Peter doesn't bother pointing out he didn't really intend it as a compliment. "So. A professional could get in."

"Definitely." Neal nods.

"Well, that's useful to know, I guess." Peter sighs. "All right, let's go check out the gift shop."

"The gift shop?" Neal looks confused, as if the notion of a museum having a gift shop is an entirely new and alien concept to him. "Why?"

"To see if they've got a poster of that painting? The one you said El would like?"

Neal opens his mouth, as if he's about to protest. Peter glowers at him.

"I could paint her a copy," Neal says.

"Well, I couldn't," Peter says. "So I'm going to buy her a poster."

*

"It's lovely," Elizabeth says, kissing him - and if she's at all disappointed Peter hasn't gotten her a real painting, she hides it very well.

[day three: Envy and Kindness]

And that, Peter realizes, is not something he should be thinking. Elizabeth isn't Neal, after all.

"I helped choose." Neal grins at Peter as he gets a kiss as well - on the cheek, naturally.

"He actually offered to paint a copy for you," Peter says, because Neal isn't going to. He doesn't add that he suspects Neal would have willingly switched his copy for the original just to be able to give it to Elizabeth - or Peter, if he'd thought Peter would like it.

Neal still doesn't seem to understand that what Peter really wants is for him to stay on the right side of the law, and out of trouble.

"You'll stay for dinner, of course," Elizabeth says.

"How could I refuse?" Neal takes off his hat.

"That's right: you can't." Elizabeth's eyes are sparkling as she smiles at Peter.

"Can I go pick something up first? And maybe get changed into something more suitable for dinner?"

It's early still. "Why not?" Peter grabs his car-keys.

"Maybe you could pick out something for Peter, too."

Peter groans. Neal and Elizabeth are smiling at each other. "El, we haven't got the time. And what's wrong with what I'm wearing right now?"

"Didn't you just say we didn't have a lot of time?"

*

"It's a set," Neal tells Peter over the phone. "And I know which painting he's going to go after next."

[day four: Greed and Charity]

"That's great," Peter says. "That's really helpful."

"It just occured to me." Neal sounds entirely too pleased with himself.

"That might be almost enough to make me forgive you for the doughnuts."

"Peter ... " Neal's voice is as sweet as maple syrup. "I _told_ you ... "

"You didn't touch the doughnuts, but I'm pretty sure you touched the paper bag they were in."

"I might have," Neal admits.

"And then there's the fact that it's eight in the morning on a Sunday."

"You're angry with me for calling you with a break-through?"

"I could kiss you," Peter says. "If only you were my wife and lying next to me, and giving me a slightly disgruntled look because I woke you up while I'm talking to someone on the phone about work, instead of while I'm bringing you breakfast in bed."

Neal makes a somewhat strange sound. Peter thinks it might be a laugh. This once, he thinks he might not mind too much if Neal's laughing at him.

"Would you like to see me go from 'slightly disgruntled' to ' _very_ disgruntled'?" Elizabeth asks. She's leaning over his shoulder, probably so that Neal can hear her.

"I could come over and help you make breakfast," Neal offers.

"No, I'll be fine." Peter wonders what Neal's doing up so early on a Sunday. It might be the case, but he doesn't think so. "I can make breakfast."

"I believe in you."

"Thanks." This time, Peter's sure Neal is laughing.

*

"I can't tell him it's a fake," Neal says.

[day five: Pride and Humility]

"Then don't tell him," Mozzie says.

"I can't _not_ tell him. And he'd find out anyway. Probably."

"Probably," Mozzie echoes. He keeps his tone neutral. Neal doesn't need Mozzie to tell him 'probably' is only a small step away from 'maybe' - and while 'maybe' has never been good enough for Mozzie, he knows Neal's different.

"It's better if I tell him than if he finds out on his own."

"Do you actually need me for this conversation?" Mozzie inquires. He's got places to be, people to talk to.

"Yes!" Neal almost snaps. None of the people Mozzie might be talking to make him worry quite the way Neal does. It's not just that Neal's flirting with the idea of going straight; Mozzie knows Neal too well to believe that's going to last once the novelty has worn off.

"All right. Say you do tell him. What happens?" It's not that Neal takes crazy risks either; it's more that he takes them with his eyes wide open. Neal isn't an idiot, but sometimes (too often) he acts like one.

"He demands me to produce the original."

"You could," Mozzie says, hating himself, "have someone switch it back." It's obscene, really - not to mention absurd, but if it works, Mozzie supposes it works. Simple as that. If the rules of the game have changed, the best thing to do is to play along.

"He wouldn't even be looking at it if I hadn't told him."

"But you did tell him." Mozzie doesn't judge - he's simply making an observation. About the quite simple fact that Neal has nobody to blame for his current problem except himself.

"It's one of my best works."

"So don't tell him. Just wait and see."

"I - " Neal's cellphone rings. Neal looks at the number, then pales. Mozzie decides that hanging around with the wrong kind of people has rather reduced his intelligence. "Hello?"

*

"I don't believe this!" Peter fumes.

[day six: Wrath and Patience]

"These things happen, Peter." Neal would be uncomfortable with the fact that Peter's driving while he's clearly in a temper, but thus far, traffic has been peaceful. Besides, Neal's got plenty of other reasons to be uncomfortable already.

"What kind of museum needs a visitor to point out that it's put a fake painting on display?"

"That's a rhetorical question, I assume."

Peter takes a deep breath, holds it, releases it. Looks at Neal. "I'm sorry - I shouldn't be taking this out on you. It's not like you had anything to do with this whole screw-up after all."

Neal wonders how Peter can not notice how Neal's lips have gone dry.

"I'm just annoyed because whomever took those first six paintings definitely isn't going to come after the seventh one, now that about every newspaper in the country has published the story of how some visiting expert discovered it's a fake."

"Yeah."

"So either he took it already and nobody noticed, or he's as frustrated as we are." Peter considers for a moment. "I hope it's the second, but either way, we're going to have to find him the hard way."

"Uh-huh."

"Hey, don't give me that look." Peter grins. "Nobody likes combing through miles of paperwork and records, but we're going to do it all the same. We're going to get this guy. And who knows? We might get lucky. If the fake's his, that might be a clue right there."

"The fake - " Neal starts, because there's no way Peter isn't going to find out now.

"Could have nothing to do with the case, of course." Peter looks in his rearview-mirror and switches lanes. "Could be just a coincidence."

"It's - "

"Oh, and Elizabeth wondered if you'd like to come over for dinner again tomorrow evening."

"I - "

"You'll come, of course," Peter says. "I'd prefer it if you didn't comment on my clothes this time, or try to convince me to go shopping for clothes with you, but, well, I guess I know you well enough to not hold my breath there. And that wine you brought along last time was really very good."

*

"Someone stole your painting," Peter tells him.

[day seven: Sloth and Diligence]

"I know." Neal is surprised to find how mixed his feelings about that are. All in all, he thinks he's glad he's never stolen anything that was created by an artist who was still alive to read about the theft in the newspapers. "It's crazy."

"You were incredibly lucky," Peter says.

"I know."

"That doesn't mean I'm not mad at you." Peter doesn't sound particularly angry, though.

Neal remembers his conversation with Mozzie and wonders if luck really had anything to do with anything - and if he wants to find out by asking Mozzie for his painting. He's not sure what he'd do with it, anyway; he wouldn't be able to keep it, and it's not really something suitable for Elizabeth's living room.

"So, what's going to happen now?"

Peter shrugs. "We keep looking."

"There's an art-auction in Boston this weekend." There's also a quite nice hotel Neal's stayed at before, although they probably won't remember him by that name - assuming they remember him at all.

"You're not going to Boston," Peter says. "If you want a vacation, you'll have to do the same thing everyone else does."

Neal wonders what that might be. Whatever it is, Peter clearly isn't doing it either, unless his definition of a 'vacation' is entirely different from everyone else's. "I thought you and Elizabeth could go."

"It would be pointless to go without you," Peter says, then sighs.

Neal manages not to look too smug. Peter scowls at him anyway.


End file.
